


Slayer vs Avenger

by pprfaith



Series: Wishlist 2015 [14]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: 3 + 1, Alternate Universe, Canon Typical Violence, Community: wishlist_fic, Cracky, F/M, Happy Fuzzies, How did I get from happy fuzzies to violence?, Immortal Buffy, Not Beta Read, Pre-Canon, Prompt Fic, Sequel, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 04:23:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5483183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pprfaith/pseuds/pprfaith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times it's 'versus' and one time it's 'and'. Vegas!Verse Avengers AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slayer vs Avenger

**Author's Note:**

> For _stellarluna35_ who asked for... the title, actually. Six years and counting, and I've never used a prompt as the title before. Huh. 
> 
> Also, none of this makes sense without the prequels.

+

1\. Bruce

They’re going to catch him.

Bruce is fast, faster than most people expect just from looking at him, but the American soldiers in civvies are going to catch him anyway because this time Ross got smart and sent men who actually know how to blend long enough to get close. 

Fourteen months without incident, eleven since the last time Bruce was spotted and now he’s running full tilt down a crowded sidewalk in Jakarta and they’re gaining on him fast.

Because while they’re simply running, Bruce is also, at the same time, busy trying to convince his other half that there’s no reason to come out in one of the most densely populated areas in the world and cause havoc. 

There’s a flash of a weapon being drawn to his left and suddenly, that’s a lot harder than it was a moment ago. 

Damn it, damn it, damn it. 

Suddenly, a nondescript sedan comes to screeching halt in front of him just as he swerves to cross the road and maybe lose at least a few of his pursuers. 

For a beat, Bruce thinks that’s it, and the Hulk _roars_ inside his head, but then a young blonde woman sticks her head out the driver side window and hollers, “Get in!”

It could be a trap. 

It probably is. 

But, but, but. Ross is generally speaking not that clever and underhanded and Bruce really doesn’t have much of a choice, what with at least six overly muscled and well-armed goons closing in from four directions. 

So he takes a leap – both literally and metaphorically – and swings himself into the backseat. 

The car takes off with screeching tires and a triumphant whoop from the front when the soldiers pull up short and start swearing.

But then a dark van pulls up right where the sedan stopped and the men jump in and crap, this is about to turn into a car chase, isn’t it?

Bruce is about to inform his unexpected helpers of that when a chuckle from the passenger seat startles him. There is a man sitting there, longish black hair pulled into a ponytail, white shirt pulled taut across broad shoulders. He’s gorgeous and dangerous looking and the Other Guy gets suddenly quiet inside Bruce’s head. 

The man’s eyes – startlingly green – are fixed on what’s happening behind them.

“Company,” he calmly announces when the van does, in fact, start after them and then they’re around a corner and the woman has a foot made of lead. At least. 

A few seconds of silence, then the van comes racing around the corner, armed men hanging out the windows. Green Eyes sneers and flicks his hand as if swatting flies. 

Behind them, a car abruptly swerves lanes and shoulders into the van, sending it into a row of parked mopeds, which go down like dominos. The woman, having watched in the rearview mirror, snorts.

“Five points for execution. A bit on the lazy side,” she announces, over takes a bicycle and steps on it again.

“Why are you helping me?” Bruce blurts. Possibly a minute too late, but, hey. He knows he should be old hat at this by now, but he really, really isn’t. 

The man shrugs. The woman grins at Bruce over her shoulder and takes a sharp left before the van can start gaining on them again. “We like a spot of chaos. Don’t we, honey?”

She pats the man on the knee and oh, a couple. A couple who apparently likes to save random strangers.

“But you don’t know me. I could be a thief. A murderer. I could be a child molester!”

She scrunches her nose up and jumps the curb on a belated right. As she expertly jerks the wheel around, he notices a flash of red on her left arm, wrist to elbow. Is she wearing a ribbon all the way up her forearm? “Are you a child molester?”

“What? No!”

She grins and narrowly avoids an elderly woman with a food cart. “Gaining,” her boyfriend? informs her dryly, right before a brief burst of bullets hits the rear window and they all have to duck down. Bruce feels a rain of glass on his head and neck and waits for the answering roar from within. 

It doesn’t come. 

The car picks up speed, another turn, a brief reprieve as the van is blocked off by a truck. “Then we’re fine,” Red Ribbon informs Bruce as if the actual shooting at them didn’t just happen. 

Really? That’s the only thing she takes offense with? Not thief? Not murderer?

As if reading his mind, Green Eyes shrugs. “We are not the most polite of people ourselves.”

“Then why help me?” Somehow, this conversation is going in circles. And the van is still there! Ad why is the Other Guy so quiet?!

“Fun?” Green Eyes suggests glibly, just as Red Ribbon offers, “My darling husband has a weak spot for the two-natured.”

“What?”

Somehow, the foot chase was less stressful than this. Or at least less confusing. 

While fishtailing around a gaggle of vendors, the woman actually turns to give him a narrow-eyed look. “You are two-natured, aren’t you? You feel like it.”

“Two-natured?” he finds himself asking, although, god, he knows. He knows and _they_ know, and that means – 

Suddenly, Green Eyes’ eyes aren’t green anymore but a startling, predator gold. “Two-natured. Shapeshifting. Twice-skinned. What do you call yourself?”

There is something strange about his accent, British but not, the same way the woman sounds American, but not quite. 

Bruce averts his gaze from them both, looks out the back and tries to spot the van through the broken window. He still can, but barely. The truck slowed it down too much. In his head, the Other Guy sits quietly, ear perked with interest. 

Twice-skinned. Two-natured. He likes those terms.

He likes Green Eyes, who feels a bit like looking in a mirror and he likes Red Ribbon, who is warm and soft and strong, but not dangerous. They’re helping them. He likes them. 

“Monster,” Bruce admits, too late.

“Bullshit,” Red Ribbon says, risks a look behind instead of in front. “Huh. Lost them. So, airport or harbor? Where’d you like to go?”

“Why are you _doing_ this?!”

“We told you!”

“But-“

“Accept it. Move on. Airport is probably a bad idea, right? Hey, you want to take this car?”

“I can’t just – “

“Course you can. It’s stolen anyway. Or, harbor?” 

“No! I – “

“Good man,” Green Eyes interrupts his wild denials, half of which, if he’s honest, are simply because he’s a bit overwhelmed and awed and scared and also, adrenaline crash. It’s been a long time since he experienced one of those without the Green Guy riding shotgun and it’s _confusing him_. “Just give up. She’s determined to help. You won’t win this fight.”

“And you?” 

The man smirks and sinks lower in his seat, now that the danger seems to be past. “Like she said,” he announces. “I enjoy a spot of chaos.”

He’s smirking.

+

2\. Tony

Tony is having a discussion. 

He’s having it with a gorgeous blonde in a stunning evening gown. They’re heckling over parallel universes and what lies between them like two scifi geeks, right by the buffet table and it’s as much fun as Tony has had at a gala since he was young enough to get away with turning a serving cart into a skateboard. 

Okay, no. He didn’t get away with it. But it was fun. 

She’s not a scientist, that much is clear within five minutes. She doesn’t have the terminology, doesn’t have the theories to fall back on. But she has passion, great ideas, obvious smarts and a skill with words to back it up. 

“Look,” he finds himself declaring, waving his tumbler around. “I’m all for chaos, but fact is, nature tends toward order. Maths, physics, even biology, they follow a basic order. It makes more sense for parallel universes to be aligned, to run, as the name implies, parallel.”

She jabs something with crabs and rice at him. “Did you seriously just argue for a thing by citing its name – given by someone with a view as equally limited as yours – as proof?”

See? Smart. Brilliant. 

“Well, let’s hear it then,” he challenges, vaguely aware that this is ridiculous and not caring. She’s here as arm candy for her smart husband, she told him early on, and he’s here as really spectacular arm candy for his perfect girlfriend. They’re both bored. Pepper is probably just grateful he hasn’t hacked the sound system, yet. 

“Islands,” she promptly answers. “It’s more like islands in a deep, dark ocean of void. Some are clustered, some aren’t and in between is an eternity of _nothing_.”

“Void theory,” he deadpans. “Really? That is so Doctor Who. Next you’ll be telling me there’s things in the void.”

That episode of Torchwood was kind of brilliant, though. 

She scrunches her nose adorably and then taps it with one finger, grinning. Tony’s gaze is caught, not for the first time, by the red satin ribbon twisting from her wrist to her elbow. There’s something stitched into the fabric, but he can’t make it out and doesn’t dare ask. It clashes horribly with the rest of her outfit and garners her weird looks, but she doesn’t seem to give a fuck. He can respect that. Also, their scifi argument is too funny to blow off.

“Yeah,” she drawls. “Where do you think Lovecraft got his ideas from?”

“Seriously?”

“Hey, you tried to argue with laws of nature!”

“Makes more sense than dead poets!”

“No it doesn’t. Why would anyone apply natural laws to something _outside_ of that nature? Universal laws are called that because they apply in this universe. Not because they apply anywhere!”

She waves her arms wildly, almost taking out the eye of some random guy who might or might not be a chairman at Hammer Industries. Well, what’s left of it. She notices her faux-pas and frowns fiercely at the guy until he removes himself from her reach.

Actually, this might be more fun than the serving cart incident of ’82.

+

3\. Natasha

Natasha isn’t really sure why she keeps coming back to SI and her fake job as Miss Potts’ PA, but she does. It’s… relaxing, in a way. Here, in the corporate world, she’s automatically the biggest shark in any tank and she enjoys making grown men almost piss themselves when she comes striding in on five inch heels. 

It’s satisfying. 

Good for decompression. 

What isn’t good, is the blonde woman who keeps loitering on front of Stark’s office, no matter how many times Natasha politely asks her to leave. Her face isn’t in any database she can track and there is something distinctly predatory about the slight figure. Natasha might not like Stark very much, but she does like him, at least a bit, and this screams danger.

“I told you, I’m waiting for Tony. He’s taking me to lunch and then, possibly, a scifi convention.”

“And I told you, Mister Stark is not in today.”

“Yeah, well, he told me to meet him here, now, so I’ll be waiting, thanks.”

“There is a waiting area downstairs.”

“Which is not where we agreed to meet,” the other woman declares, crosses her arms in front of her chest, and sits down on one of the plush chairs Tony keeps in front of his office. 

“I can call security,” Natasha announces, fighting the urge to simple knock the woman out and drag her out of the building. 

“You can. I’m sure they’d like to say hi.”

Natasha definitely has a Widow Bite stored away somewhere in her desk…

+

+1. The Team

Tony didn’t plan to die today, but, he decides, back to back with the rest of the so-called Avengers, surrounded by an army from outer space, with the other end of the universe literally looming over their heads, it’s okay if he does. 

As long as they manage to keep the city safe, protect the planet – or avenge it – and maybe, maybe, if they’re really lucky, save Coulson from whatever has taken over his mind and turned his eyes bright, bright blue, he’s okay with dying. 

Not fond of it, mind, but okay. 

So… okay. 

Right. 

Battle.

Cap is giving orders and they’re all listening, problems set aside for the moment, when, suddenly, a flash of light distracts them all. 

It’s different from the Chitauri’s blue energy weapons. Green, for one, and also perfectly vertical, brighter, and silent. 

It fades quicker than JARVIS can analyze it, leaving – well.

Buffy is in her usual casual wear, jeans and a cropped leather jacket. Normal enough. The swords she’s wielding in each hand? Not so much. And Loki, Loki who is as delightfully clever as his wife and even better with words, Loki who rocks hipster chic with waistcoats and skinny jeans, _that Loki_ is in full battle armor. 

There is a helmet. 

It has horns.

“What?” Tony asks, perfectly in sync with Natasha, whom the genius has never heard sound surprised before. 

Thor beats them both by lengths though, whirling around, cape swishing and shouting a happy and very, very confused, “Sister! Brother!”

O-kay. 

Apparently Tony has been consorting with gods and didn’t know it? 

And then, while they’re all sort of lowering the weapons they automatically brought to bear on the newcomers, Hulk rumbles, “Green? Pretty?”

Buffy grins and wiggles one sword at the big guy. “Hey, buddy. Nice day to smash, huh? Saw the footage. Decided to lend a hand. Well, sword.”

“What-“ Cap starts, but is cut off abruptly when the Chitauri decide to remind everyone that there is still a battle going on.

Spangles leaps, shield swinging, but Buffy is actually _faster_ , and yeah, Tony can believe _god_ , when she’s moving like this, and, well. 

He’s never actually see someone do what the word ‘cleave’ means. 

Not until right then, when the tiny, tiny woman who likes to hang around buffet tables at boring galas, brings both swords down and _cleaves_ a pair of Chitauri in two.

Loki gives the spear in his left hand – was that there the whole time? – a clever twirl and suddenly, a wave of green energy spreads around him, sizzling flesh and armor alike, leaving a lot of dead things in its wake. Tony approves. 

Thor gives an excited belly laugh. “My kin, it is a great day indeed, not only to learn that you are well in your self-imposed exile, but also to have you fight by my side once more. Brother – “

Loki gives a sudden snarl, expression twisting into something vicious and ugly. “I am not your – “

“Boys,” Buffy chides, casually loping a head off and stopping both men before they can get into whatever is up their butts. “Battle now. Heart to heart later.” Then she turns to the rest of the Avengers, who are still mostly watching, dumb-founded, and beams. “Hi, Tony, hi, _Miss Rushman_. How’s it hanging?”

And Tony can’t help it, “A little to the left,” he offers. He can roll with being friends with gods. He’s not quite sure Thor and Loki being siblings computes, because, wow, talk about opposite ends of the gene pool, but he’ll save that for later, no problem. And, catching sight of another of those flying whale things, he grimaces and cautiously tags on, “How good are you with those swords?”

She follows his gaze despite the face-plate being down and cocks her head, thoughtful. “Get me up there,” she tells him, “and I’ll show you.”

She skips – skips – over to her husband, pecks him on the cheek and orders glibly, “Don’t die, honey.”

He grins at her with a whole lot of very white teeth and stabs a Chitauri to death without taking his eyes off her. “And you, wife.”

Then Buffy takes a running leap at Iron Man, who catches her and boosts her straight up at the giant monster coming their way.

Buffy whoops. The Hulk roars in approval and follows her up, even while Cap finally remembers himself and starts giving orders, seamlessly integrating Loki into their dynamic. 

And then it’s on.

Here’s a spoiler: Tony doesn’t die. Neither does anyone else. 

+

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumble with me.](wordsformurder.tumblr.com)


End file.
